My great grandfather was a general
but I’ve got wings they are at ease today
which is a relief the night is murky
and it rains.

I only fly at nights don’t want to spook neighbours
they have got shotguns
and are a trigger happy lot
especially if they think that I’m a condor.

If I’m wing-shot, say, and fall onto A green meadow
how to tell them that I’m an angel
grounded by the Almighty
after defying his limitless powers?

With diamond studded scissors
he clipped the tip of my wings
and sent me back to earth
(that was fifty years ago they have grown full size now.)

I like to fly summer nights,
winters too cold have to wear a woolly overcoat with holes
in which hampers my graceful flight
and feathers fall of wings.

I’m the shadow that lightly obstruct the moon
and gently caress your face
when you look up and see a fallen angel
that loves mankind.

My great grandfather was a general
kicked to death by his own horse,
the family still talk about him with hushed awe!
Me, I’m not impressed.